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Strana 16 - TELL me, ye winged winds, that round my pathway roar, Do ye not know some spot where mortals weep no more? Some lone and pleasant dell, some valley in the west, Where, free from toil and pain, the weary soul may rest? The loud wind dwindled to a whisper low, And sighed for pity as it answered —
Strana 32 - Two shall be born, the whole wide world apart, And speak in different tongues and have no thought Each of the other's being, and no heed. And these, o'er unknown seas, to unknown lands Shall cross, escaping wreck, defying death; And all unconsciously shape every act And bend each wandering step to this one end — That, one day, out of darkness they shall meet And read life's meaning in each other's eyes.
Strana 16 - And thou, serenest moon, that, with such lovely face, Dost look upon the earth, asleep in night's embrace; Tell me, in all thy round, hast thou not seen some spot, Where miserable man might find a happier lot? Behind a cloud the moon withdrew in woe, And a voice, sweet, but sad, responded —
Strana 28 - But ranged as infantry, And staring face to face, I shot at him as he at me, And killed him in his place. " I shot him dead because — Because he was my foe, Just so : my foe of course he was ; That's clear enough ; although " He thought he'd 'list, perhaps, Off-hand like — just as I—- Was out of work — had sold his traps — No other reason why.
Strana 17 - Monday's child is fair of face/ Tuesday's child is full of grace/ Wednesday's child is full of woe/ Thursday's child has far to go...
Strana 16 - Tell me, thou mighty deep, Whose billows round me play, Know'st thou some favored spot, Some island far away, Where weary man may find The bliss for which he sighs ; Where sorrow never lives And friendship never dies ? The loud waves rolling in perpetual flow Stopped for a while and sighed to answer, No.
Strana 17 - To-morrow you will live, you always cry; In what far country does this morrow lie, That 'tis so mighty long ere it arrive? Beyond the Indies does this morrow live? Tis so far-fetched, this morrow, that I fear Twill be both very old and very dear. To-morrow I will live, the fool does say; To-day itselfs too late, the wise lived yesterday.
Strana 37 - What do we plant when we plant the tree ? A thousand things that we daily...